


I Like You a Latte

by crashingintothesun



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: M/M, fluff and espresso aka the perfect match, just a lot of coffee shop fluff, pining simon !
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashingintothesun/pseuds/crashingintothesun
Summary: There are two things regarding Bram Greenfeld that hold an everlasting presence in Simon’s life:The first is that Simon is hopelessly in love with him. The second thing is that Bram doesn’t even seem to know that Simon exists outside of ringing up his daily order and the occasional exchange of words at school.Simon feels doomed to watch Bram from afar, unaware of the unforgiving irony which rules his life because the thing about Simon is that he is utterly oblivious to the fact that he’s the reason for Bram’s daily presence in the cafe.orthe coffee shop AU you never knew you needed because you can never have too many





	I Like You a Latte

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bansheee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bansheee/gifts).



> This is for the wonderful Julie (bansheee) because she gave me this perfect idea and I just had to put it into words. So if it weren't for her, this fic wouldn't have happened. Thank you!

“Simon? Simon. Simon Spier.”

Leah’s voice accompanied by a sharp elbow to the side brings Simon out of his trance. A cute customer slash totally out of his league soccer player induced trance. It’s not his fault that Bram looks so effortlessly beautiful while he buries himself in his textbooks. Simon certainly can’t help the way his eyes travel down to stare at his lips as he silently mouths the problems to himself before scribbling down in his notebook. It’s one of the many things he admires about Bram.

Bram who only speaks to him when it’s repeating his regular order (one large mocha) or commenting on the daily sign located outside the door to the cafe.

Each day the barista on duty can decorate it, whether to showcase the daily specials or to leave notes- encouraging or funny- for the customers. Simon’s signs mostly consist of puns and jokes that his friends swear drive away more customers than they entice them. Simon wholeheartedly disagrees. Leah, however, her signs are always on point. They’re cleverly written advertisements and, as much as Simon hates to admit it, the cafe is always a tad busier when she creates them. It’s grown to be a popular topic of discussion among the baristas and the regulars.

“Earth to Simon,” she teases and Simon rolls his eyes before going back to wiping down the counter. They’re suffering through the typical seven o’clock lull so the past twenty minutes has been spent wiping down every inch of the counter, and then wiping it down again once the entire area has been cleaned. Simon usually takes this opportunity to, uhm, _admire_ Bram.

There are two things regarding Bram Greenfeld that hold an everlasting presence in Simon’s life. The first is that Simon is hopelessly in love with him. It’s not _that_ big of a deal- okay maybe it is. It’s like a giant roadblock in his life, creating a one way path towards nothing but tragedy because the second thing about Bram Greenfeld? He doesn’t even seem to know that Simon exists outside of ringing up his daily order and the occasional exchange of words at school. Simon feels doomed to watch Bram from afar, unaware of the unforgiving irony which rules his life because the thing about Simon is that he is utterly oblivious to the fact that he’s the reason for Bram’s daily presence in the cafe.

“Are you ever going to talk to him?” Leah asks. “Or are you going to just gawk at him like some creep.”

“I’ll talk to him when you manage to be nice to Abby,” Simon replies.

“I can be nice to her. I just don’t know how to flirt so everything I say comes out sarcastic. It’s not my fault,” Leah defends, crossing her arms over her chest. Simon laughs at that before sparing another glance at Bram.

“Isn’t it sad, though? I feel like we’re in some cheesy movie. Here we are, pining over the soccer captain and a cheerleader.”

“Doesn’t that make us the losers in this scenario?”

Simon gives her a confused look.

“In the movies, it’s always the losers who are in love with the popular kids. We’re the losers, Simon.”

“Well how do you suppose we fix that?”

“You join the cheerleading squad,” she deadpans. Simon just smacks her playfully with his rag. She smacks him back harder.

* * *

 

The next day in English class, Simon takes his seat and goes to pull out the book they’re supposed to be reading only to discover he’s left it at home. There aren’t really any other kids he knows well enough to ask to share with them, except one.

One of the perks of his best friend also being on the soccer team is that Simon can have a casual conversation with Bram every once in awhile. Except those conversations are usually: “Hey, can I borrow a pencil?” or “Where is everyone?” when their shared lunch table is absent a few people. Bram doesn’t really talk to Simon that much. Simon wants to think that it’s because Bram is just shy, and not because he doesn’t like him. Simon doesn’t know why Bram wouldn’t like him, because he’s never done anything to get on Bram’s bad side, but you never know with people. And Simon really never knows what the hell Bram is thinking, especially when he catches him smiling to himself during the middle of a lecture.

Simon leans over to his left and taps Bram’s arm to get his attention.

“Hey, so I forgot my book and I was wondering if we could share?”

When Bram doesn’t reply at first, Simon’s positive that it means a solid No. Bram then wordlessly slides his book from the middle of the desk over to the right so Simon can get a better view. Simon scoots his desk closer to Bram’s, suddenly aware of the way his heart is jumping in his chest. He hopes that Bram doesn’t notice the sudden wave of redness in his cheeks and the way it grows darker as their proximity grows closer. He thinks about what Leah said, about them being the losers if their lives were a movie, and he can’t help but wonder if Bram looks at him and feels the same- that Simon’s just the loser who forgets books and serves coffee for a living.

* * *

 

When Simon walks into work the next Saturday morning, he laughs when he sees what Leah’s written on the sign: “Today’s Special” is written in nice, cursive letters. Underneath that, instead of an actual daily special, Leah’s written “And so are you” in perfect handwriting. She must have gotten that one from the internet. When he sees Leah, however, he actually has to do a double take. She is positively radiant, especially so for six thirty in the morning on a Saturday. It doesn’t seem like Leah at all.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Simon asks her as he slips on his apron, tying it behind his back easily. Her smile wanes a bit at that.  
“I actually had something good to tell you, but I guess I won’t anymore.”

Simon shrugs at that. “Okaaaay.” He then runs a hand through his messy hair- it literally just wouldn’t cooperate this morning- and adjusts his glasses. He goes through and turns on all the machines, making sure everything is up and running before the doors unlock at seven. Sometimes he wonders why he keeps this job, especially since it means early mornings every weekend, and late nights on weekdays, but then he remembers that if he wants his own car someday, he really needs the money.

 

“So are you really not going to tell me your news?” Simon asks a few hours later. They’re finishing up the last orders on the morning rush and Leah’s attempting to make a dent in the mess behind the counter.

“So you know how Abby and I were partnered up for the biology assignment? Well, we were at her house last night finishing it up and something kind of...happened,” she says, not looking up from where she’s cleaning. Simon watches her curiously, waiting for her to continue.

“I may have told her that I liked her. And she may have kissed me? But I don’t think it meant anything. She’s probably just being nice. I mean, she and Nick broke up not too long ago so...” she trails off, still not looking at Simon. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun and there’s a few drops of sweat beading on her forehead as she continues to vigorously clean. Simon wishes that Leah could see just how naturally beautiful she is; instead she just buries her insecurities under a sarcastic and rough-edged exterior. He also knows that Abby isn’t the kind of girl to just kiss anyone, especially not out of pity. Abby understands Leah, more than Leah wants to admit; she knows about how Leah masks her true feelings and how her words can be transformed from sweet to sarcastic as it passes through her lips without intention. Sure, they haven’t been friends for quite as long as Simon and Leah have, but Abby does know her. The idea of that is probably terrifying to Leah; the idea that Abby actually likes her back is probably even more alarming.

Simon smiles at her although she isn’t looking at him. “Leah, you know this means that she likes you, right? Like you know she’d never do anything to hurt you. I think you should talk to her, okay? And be nice about it.”

Leah scoffs and shoots Simon a glare. “I’m always nice.”

The few hours after the initial morning rush usually drag on slowly, so slowly that Simon considers banging his head against the wall for a form of entertainment, even better if it brings about a concussion rendering him unable to work for a while. It isn’t until the bell chimes over the door, signalling a customer, that he gets pulled out of his daydream. When he sees Bram walk up to the counter, however, Simon feels as if he’s practically brain dead already, no head-banging necessary. His body will never get used to seeing Bram- not in school, not here in the cafe, not even on social media (although Bram isn’t very active on any of his accounts. Not that Simon’s checked or anything). And seeing Bram in a loose tank top and shorts? Simon has to physically stop himself from staring too hard. It’s just not fair how Bram can just casually stroll in here, showing off his toned arms and legs, and act like everything’s okay when Simon feels like he’s been lit on fire from the inside out.

“Hey,” Bram greets with a soft smile as he walks up to the register.

“Hi,” Simon replies, mentally applauding himself for being able to find his voice. “The usual?” he asks and Bram nods before setting his backpack down on the counter and retrieving his wallet. After he pays, Bram walks away to his usual table and immediately pulls out a textbook, diving right into his work.

“You look like you need a cold shower,” Leah comments as she watches Simon.

“He’s just so fucking beautiful.” Simon lets out a dreamy sigh, his eyes not leaving their focus on Bram.

“Stop staring. You look desperate.”

“I am desperate.”

“Simon, seriously. Go. Talk. To. Him.” Leah talks as if she’s spelling it out for a child.

Simon shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just...can’t, okay? I wouldn’t know how to.”

“It’s easy. Here, I’ll show you.”

Leah then picks up Bram’s drink and an extra pastry from their shelf. Before Simon can stop her, she’s carrying them both out to Bram.

“Here you go. One large mocha and a strawberry danish on the house, courtesy of Simon.” She then smiles at Bram before walking back towards a mortified looking Simon.

“You owe me four dollars for that danish, by the way,” she says, grinning smugly.  

 

Bram stops by the counter on his way out.

“Hey, thanks for the danish,” he tells Simon, smiling at him and causing Simon to instantly become a blushing idiot.

“Well, you know what the sign says: you’re special.”

A weird expression flickers across Bram’s face before he nods and mumbles out an, “Oh, okay.” He turns quickly and leaves. Simon closes his eyes and wishes for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. His tombstone will surely read: _Here lies Simon Spier, the boy who couldn’t flirt to save his life._

So much for Leah’s advice on talking to him.

* * *

 

The next morning at work, Simon is honest to god about to quit. It’s simply barbarous to have to wake up this early on a Sunday, and it doesn’t help that he couldn’t get the image of Bram’s toned body out of his mind all night.

The floor hadn’t opened up yesterday, despite Simon’s wishes, which leaves him standing in the aftermath of the Sunday rush. Sunday’s aren’t usually as busy as Saturday mornings, but it’s still hell to get through. Even with knowing all of the regulars’ orders, it’s nothing but chaos for the staff. Leah’s gotten lucky and isn’t scheduled to come in until noon, which will leave only four hours for them to work together until Simon clocks out for the day.

Working without Leah isn’t just shitty- it’s downright awful. He’s used to having her company while the day drags on, even if half the time she’s getting on his case about Bram. And that’s the thing: Bram isn’t at his usual table either. So today is double shitty. The thoughts about banging his head on the wall repeatedly soon return and Simon honestly doesn’t know how he’s going to make it until Leah comes in.

When noon finally hits, Simon feels a wave of relief wash through him as the familiar brown ponytail whooshes by him.

“Hello to you too,” he says as he watches Leah brush past him without a greeting. Without turning to look at him, she grabs the eraser and a piece of chalk.

“I’m changing the sign,” she says, a determined look on her face.

“Why? I thought I did a good job today…”

“Simon, _‘Sex sells. Unfortunately we sell coffee’_ is not funny.”

Simon sighs in defeat, knowing that there’s no way of stopping her. “Fine. Go ahead and crush all of my creative dreams.”

“Gladly,” she deadpans before disappearing back out the door.

 

At first, Simon swears he’s imagining all the weird looks he’s receiving. Each customer seems to be giving him a look varying in emotions from amusement to disgust. One lady even says that she’ll pray for him, while one of the male regulars acts distant, not making his usual conversation.

Even weirder, though, is when a relatively younger guy (Simon guesses they’re around the same age) walks in and smiles brightly at Simon.

“Hey,” he says warmly, his eyes roaming up and down Simon’s body. Simon feels as if this guy is observing him under a microscope. It’s a bit unnerving.

“Hi. What can I get for you?”

“A medium iced vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso, and your number.” Simon’s ringing in the order and visibly chokes when he hears the last bit.

“I’m sorry?”

“A medium iced vanilla latte with an extra shot...and your number,” the guy repeats, smiling casually as if he hasn’t just asked a complete stranger for his number.

“I don’t...I’m not...Your total’s five seventy-five,” Simon manages to stutter out.

The customer seems to enjoy Simon’s stuttering because he places a few dollars in the tip jar. He also takes his receipt and quickly writes something down on it before sliding it back to Simon. Simon looks down and realizes that it’s a phone number. He sends Leah a quick look of confusion before turning back to the next customer at the register who just has an amused look on her face, apparently having witnessed all of Simon’s glorious awkwardness.

That isn’t the last strange encounter Simon has that day. Not even an hour later, something similar happens. Simon’s minding his business, cleaning up the milk steamer, before he hears someone clear their throat from behind him. He turns to see another guy roughly his age standing at the register. Leah’s off in the back somewhere so Simon has no choice but to get it.

“Hi, what can I get for you?”

The boy’s cheeks are red before he tells Simon his order: just a simple black coffee. As Simon takes his money, he speaks up again.

“You’re really cute.”

“I’m sorry?” Simon asks, taken by surprise. Never in his life has he been hit on by a guy, let alone two in one day.

“You’re, uh, you’re really cute.” The guy averts his brown eyes to the counter, obviously shy. Simon finds it kind of endearing.

“Oh...thank you?”

The guy smiles and looks back up to Simon. “You’re welcome.”

After Simon makes his coffee and goes to hand it to him, the guy hands him a ripped sheet of paper back. Simon doesn’t even have to look at it to know that it’s another number. He waits until the guy leaves the cafe before throwing it away. Sure, he’s cute, but he’s no Bram.

 

It isn’t until the last hour of his shift that Bram walks through the doors. As soon as Simon sees him enter, he starts making his drink. By the time Bram makes it to the counter, Simon has it almost completed.

“I hope you’re getting the usual because it’s already being made,” Simon manages to joke as Bram hands him the money. Exact change, as always.

“Does that mean I come here too much?” Bram asks with a smile.

Simon shrugs. “If you look at that as a bad thing. It’s nice to see a familiar face, though. Plus you always clean up after your table which is more than I can say about some people who come here.”

“Well my mother always taught me to leave a table cleaner than I found it.” His eyes then go wide when he realizes what he’s said. “Not that you don’t have clean tables it’s just that-”

“No, I get it,” Simon cuts in. “Your mother seems like a very wise lady. Maybe that’s why you’re so smart.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as they just smile, both of their cheeks pink with blushes, before Simon remembers Bram’s drink. He then quickly goes and finishes it before handing it to Bram, who is still at the register. There’s an unreadable look on his face as he takes the drink, his eyes never leaving Simon’s face.

“Thanks,” he says simply before heading back to his table.

When Leah re-enters from the back, she takes one look at Bram before looking back to Simon. She groans and rolls her eyes.  
“Oh for the love of God, Simon. This is getting ridiculous.”

“What? I talked to him.”  
“Yeah? About what?”

“How he always leaves the table clean…” He doesn’t dare to look Leah in the eye. If looks could kill, her face could rival Medusa’s.

 

At four o’clock exactly, Simon goes to clock out. It’s been a long day and he’s just ready to go home and mope over cute soccer players, which is nothing out of the ordinary for him. After he clocks out, he walks out from behind the counter and strips off his apron, hanging it up on the wall. He also happens to notice out of the corner of his eye that Bram is packing up his stuff as well. Simon sucks in a breath and decides to be brave for once.

“You heading out too?” Simon asks as he walks over towards him. He casually leans over to pick up trash left over on the adjacent table so it doesn’t look like he walked over there just to talk to Bram.

Bram nods as he picks up his backpack, the unreadable expression still on his face. “Yeah. I have to sneak in a run before it gets too late.”

“Oh, well, bye.” Simon doesn’t mean to stumble out his words, but Bram’s got a hold on every inch of his body, including his tongue, which gets tied up too easily.

“Have a nice night, Simon. By the way, nice sign.” Bram smiles a bit too long at him before leaving. Simon wistfully watches him walk out the door before looking back down and noticing a single sheet of paper left on the table. He picks it up, ready to chase Bram down thinking it’s a piece of his homework (Bram never leaves trash behind). It’s not.

It’s a note addressed to him with phone number followed by a cute smiley face.

Simon ignores Leah’s smug look as he smiles and folds the paper up, tucking it into his back pocket. It isn’t until then that he realizes something’s definitely up. Bram commenting on the sign? Not something out of the ordinary. However, Bram happening to leave his number for Simon on a day where two other men have also tried to give him their numbers?

Simon walks out of the cafe and his face immediately turns bright red when he reads the sign that Leah created.

It’s a stick figure Simon (glasses and all) followed by:

_“Today your barista is:_

_1\. Hella fucking gay_

_2\. Desperately single_

_For your drink today I recommend:_

_You give me your number”_

Simon’s first instinct is to murder Leah, but with Bram’s number burning a hole in his pocket, he decides that can wait for another day.

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Simon’s sitting next to Bram at their table in the cafe. He’s on break after an incredibly slow first half of his shift. And ever since Bram had entered the cafe an hour earlier, Simon’s literally been counting down the minutes until he could join him, even if only for a brief period of time.

“You know, I think my boss is close to banning you,” Simon jokes. “You’re incredibly distracting to me.”

“Oh, I’m the distracting one?” Bram asks, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Simon. “Why do you think it takes me so long to finish my homework every day? I can never pull my eyes away from you, Simon.”

Simon’s cheeks warm up at that, and Bram laughs softly as he watches the redness appear.

“So why did you keep coming back if I was such a distraction?” he asks curiously.

“Because you’re like a magnet, and I can’t escape your pull.”

“You’re starting to sound like one of those poets from English class,” Simon teases, deflecting the conversation from all of the compliments. Just like Leah, he never really knows how to handle compliments appropriately. (Although from the way she’s been smiling more around Abby, he’s assuming that she’s learning how to).

“How would you know? You somehow never manage to remember your book.” Bram smirks before taking a quick sip of his drink.

“Well that’s because I have this classmate who is incredibly kind and beautiful and always lets me share with him.”

“He sounds truly remarkable,” Bram tells him. Simon grins and leans forward, pressing a few quick pecks to Bram’s lips.

“He is.”

And he’s not some hopeless case of unrequited feelings anymore.

There are still two things regarding Bram that are prominent in Simon’s life, with the first being his abounding, no longer hopeless, love for him. And the second is that Bram Greenfeld feels the exact same way.

 


End file.
